Lost And Lonely In The City: The Lives of Indian Working Women

Often, women were expected to work till they got married; if they continued after marriage, it was to add to the family income.

- DEEPA GAHLOT

Back in 1962, K.A. Abbas made a film called Gyarah Hazaar Ladkian about the problems of working women in Mumbai. The leading lady is in the dock for murder, and when the judge asks her lawyer who he will get as witnesses for her defence, he replies, "Gyarah Hazaar Ladkian." The film was, in a roundabout way, about sexual harassment of working women. At the time, there were reportedly 11,000 women in the city's workforce. Abbas and his other collaborators on this film, Ali Sardar Jafri, Kaifi Azmi and Majrooh Sultanpuri were known to be progressives and all for equality for women. Over the opening credits, there are visuals of women doing the kind of work that was open to females over half a century ago—teachers, receptionists, telephone operators, clerks, typists, air hostesses, nurses. Nobody imagined women in top management roles; female doctors, engineers, journalists or lawyers were few enough in number to be seen as exceptions in a male-dominated world. More often than not, women were expected to work till they got married; if they continued after marriage, it was to add to the family income. It was a matter of some shame for the husband that his wife had to go out to work. A woman choosing not just a bread-winning job but a career was still rare.

The title track, written by Majrooh Sultanpuri—Kaam ki dhun mein hain rawaan, mast haseen jawaan, gyarah hazar ladkian—played over women at work. The verse that portrayed nurses looking after male patients had the following words:

Ye jo kareeb aa gayeen, dur dilon ka ghum gaya,
pyaar se haath rakh diya, dard ka jor tham gaya
pahro wafa ki deviyaan sharmo haya ki putaliyaan
gyarah hazar ladkiya gyarah hazar ladkiya